OUR COUNTRY SITS ON THE THRESHOLD of a historic moment. This year marks exactly two decades since the Republic of South Africa held its first democratic elections in 1994. A few weeks from now, we will be going to the polls to elect a ruling government that will take us through the next five years.
But, most importantly to me, I will be voting for the very first time in my life. I have looked forward to this moment for a long time and I can’t wait for the day when I put my X next to the party I have a bit more confidence in than all the others. As things stand, I am conflicted about which party is worthy of my vote. Nothing preoccupies my mind at this moment more who I’ll be voting for. Each day, I dedicate a few minutes to the question. Deciding who to vote for is not simply a matter of putting an X next to the party you happen to like or one that you are sentimental about. It is much more serious than that, at least in my eyes. When you vote for a party, you vote for the future of your country. You give powers to a few individuals to decide on the fate of millions, some of whom are too young or powerless to speak for themselves. When you vote for a party, you give them the responsibility of guarding the gains of our liberation struggle. You’re saying, ‘Steve Biko, Robert Sobukwe, Lilian Ngoyi, Solomon Mahlangu, Khotso Seahlolo and many other sons and daughters of the soil died for this country and I want you to ensure that their deaths were not in vain. Protect their legacy, defend their cause.’
Such a herculean task should never be given to anyone incapable of performing it. And so I find that I conclude with more questions than answers. But I will continue to ask myself this question over the next few weeks, and, hopefully, by the time the day of voting comes I will walk into the voting station with confidence and conviction in my decision. I will make a decision that I can defend, and one that one day, I will defend to my as of yet unborn son, Mwalimu, and his cousin Lalibela, as having been a decision born from principle and integrity.
There are many things that I want to tell these two children, Mwalimu and Lalibela. I want to tell them the truth about where their country came from. I want history to have its say. And it will. One day, history will have its say. It will not tell a story of reconciliation and a born-free generation. It will not tell a story of democracy and equality. History will tell the story of families like mine who struggled and continue to struggle, and of many Malaika Wa Azanias: young people born at the dawn of a democratic dispensation who were filled with optimism about a Rainbow Nation that never was. It will tell the story of young black children whose humanity is destroyed by the brutality of life in the township, a modern-day concentration camp where poor black people find little comfort is afforded to them by a system that sucks the hope out of their very hearts. It will tell the story about what it truly means to be black in democratic South Africa: that poverty, destitution and hunger continue to have a black face. History will tell that democracy is just a word when millions of black people are starving, unemployed and landless. But above all, history will tell a story about you, about your genesis from the people’s saviour to the albatross hanging around our necks.
I can only hope that when that day comes, my son, my beloved Mwalimu, and my beautiful niece, Lalibela, will not have their own painful experiences to share. I hope that they will be part of a generation of black South African children who are, in every sense of the term, born free.
Aluta continua!